


the culmination of my being aka dave striders gay ass high school memories

by breath_e



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eventually smut probably, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Penises, Social Anxiety, gay motherheckin SHIT, penii
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breath_e/pseuds/breath_e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GG: what did you do to my brother :(<br/>TG: it was theoretical<br/>GG: :( :( :(<br/>TG: dont do that<br/>GG: :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :(<br/>GG: :( :( :( :( :(</p><p>The thrilling tale of romance, bromance, uh. Enemymance and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the culmination of my being aka dave striders gay ass high school memories

**Author's Note:**

> everything in this is gonna get way too, ,, fucking gay okay,
> 
> this is kinda the cool one of most fanfictions i do
> 
> ALSO WOW HOLY FUCK I AM ON A ROLL
> 
>  

The dreary clouds stirred overhead as he sat at his desk, hands curled around each other to cushion his chin. The vague glare of the computer screen buzzing throughout the room like the flies that whirl around the light when its dark in the humid Texan heat. 

 

Everything was numb on his body, from the small ache beneath his ribs, tearing and stabbing into something he couldn't fix.That pain moved from place to place, each depending on the mood of his brother and the day of the week. The deep flare was welcome, always welcome, not only to let him feel as if there was somebody acknowledging his existence, but also to distract him from that same thought. 

 

Truth is, there was nobody alive in the world who could satisfy his need for a friend, any friends for that matter. All of his life had been a competition to see how far he could get running on social fumes and _god._ Even if there was somebody out there who even dared to socialize with him, Dave wouldn't try and come too close. Stuff like that is what leads to pain, pain greater than that covering his body...

 

_Ding._

 

The sound of something he couldn't recognize as he staggered backward, taking a swift breath and searching for what it could have been. A subtle flashing in the corner queued his attention. He quirked an eyebrow and clicked it, the hammering in his chest dully filling the room with it's vibrant sound.

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:13 --

TT: This may seem sudden but the curiosity has bested me.   
TT: This chumhandle has been hanging on my mother's refrigerator for at least a million years like it was a historic masterpiece of a cat rather than a tool's handle.  
TT: Did I mention she learned calligraphy to write it and then bought an industrial sized magnet for safe-keeping.   
TT: So, may I ask, who the fuck are you and why does my mother know you?  
TT: Or, speaking in terms you may understand- assuming you do;   
TT: What is your name weary traveler?

 

He coughed, stifling it down his throat as he tried his best to remind himself that this is a person. A person who would like to start a not-so-friendly conversation. He took a shaking breath, typing it out slowly to prevent from making a fool of himself.

 

TG: buster mcthunderstick, the  
TG: crusader of the cervix

 

A pause.

 

TT: You're just one step away from drooling over underage furries. Possibly one rung away from "teen who claims he has the biggest dick in exitence over Xbox".  
TT: Kudos for your achievement.  
TT: What are you? Seven?  
TG: gee you must be the sap on the family tree  
TG: is it a hobby to ask around a shitty chat client for kids ages  
TT: Only the ones that introduce themselves like a male stripper and are moronic enough to admit that they are kids, yes.  
TG: thats fucked up  
TT: It's not a kink, it's a lifestyle.  
TT: To assure you, my name is Rose.

 

* * *

 

TG: sup rose  
TG: im dave  


 

* * *

 

Being ignored isn't the best way Dave would have wanted to spend his childhood.

 

He brushed past the living room with a simple shrug, even through inside he broke and broke again.

 

Not even so much as a "hello" from his father all yesterday and the day before.

 

It wasn't anything new, after all, Dirk was prone to his isolation fits. Always excuses. He must live by the rules of wonderland: no time to say hello, goodbye. He's too late.

 

Yeah, something poetic like that.

 

With coffee in hand, Dave quickly gave his old man, who was stationed on the couch with a controller, a flick of a finger, and a rude one at that, before shuffling out to the cold weather. Hands stuffed in his pockets, head tilted to the concrete, flowers like towers poking out, struggling for life, he couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth prick up. 

 

Caught him, he thought of something containing a small amount of meaning such as, 'these flowers are my soul because they're wilting and I am a fucking flower, god damn." 

 

It was a long walk to school.

 

It's times like then, the entire halls go silent as he passes, completely struck with an inferior twinge as he swaggers pass, hand shoved in his pocket, thumbs sticking out, and back relaxed, bent forward in a disinterested slump. That's what he liked to think anyway, they were actually caught up in the purple and black hues leaking out of the edges of his glasses. He caught his breath with their irksome gazes, pushing his sunglasses into their place and, luckily, the people began to chat once more.

 

They murmured and chatted to and fro, just barely audible, and soon grew into the habitual roar or students gossiping and slamming locker doors- probably leaving dents that will never been nursed.

 

The school board and PTA tightwads claim to care about the tin boxes, but never act upon the graffiti dicks, false rumors, phone number to some famous heartache, and the initials that gratify the relationships that last only a week at best. He passed all the _morons,_ or some of the other endearing terms Dave thought up in his head, soon enough, the brick hallways becoming less cluttered, but not passive, as he swung to his left to his classroom, to much of his dismay, he was met with a dim lit room and a silver handle that refused to budge.

 

He cursed at it a few times, idly gazing from wall to wall of the crowded halls before mindlessly tugging and pulling and generally making a fool of himself. His foot planted against the wall beside the door, holding onto the handle with his thin arms, littered in faint yellow bruises, and tugged and gaped and cursed before his hands slipped off from sweat and he landed on the center of the hallway. 

 

Sending an automatic, anxious look to each side, Dave noted that nobody seemed to be paying attention. A pent up burst of air puffed from him as he approached the door once more.

 

He cupped his hands, pulling them into a binocular shape and pressing his nose against the bulletproof glass, making the breath condensation that every kindergartner has played with on the bus windows to school when it rains. Dave grumbled, attempting to look further to the left, only getting a oily cheek full of glass and red marks surrounding his bloodshot eyes.

 

Nothing showed, not even the scampering of the rats whom, no matter how many times the sanitation department claims, are still there, just maps of Europe and the french labels pasted on everything. His teacher was late once again, not a surprising feat, she was constantly rushing into class as soon as the obnoxious chime of the late bell rang through the two-story high school. That would have been endearing if her tests weren't so closely spaced together- her agenda caused many all-nighters and complaints from parents. 

 

Cursing, he ran his fingers down his chrome shirt -best two dollars ever spent in the clearance section ever spent at WalMart, everyone who disagrees gets escorted personally to hell- flattening out the wrinkles made by his little stunt and regaining his posture.

 

Remaining what he thought of cool was his top priority, next to trying not to have panic attacks during trig and staying as low key as physically, mentally, and emotionally possible. It just caused a lot less fuss if he was like his brother all the time, so that all the people who stared at his band aids wouldn't approach him, caught in social terror, and so that if he did have to step out of the room once he saw his test scores, people assumed it was to smoke behind the dumpsters and not because of the whirring of horrid thoughts in his head.

 

Enough of that, just musing on what others thought of him gave him goosebumps. He looked down at his plastic watch, flicking the scratched digital screen once, twice, three times, before it displayed accurate time, calculating at least ten minutes before he was due in class.

 

Terrific.

 

Peering out into the hallways once more, he huffed, his footsteps gradually growing into echos as he furthers away from the crowd of the other hormonal teenagers. 

 

The school was lit up in blinding white lights, as per protocol, the tea-bag color and purple tiles, chipped running near the wall, all showing to the plain eye, blemishes and all. It was a terrible decorum, muddled colors filling the way from how many times they repainted, and the sight of mildew stretching from the spongy ceiling. Not like he cared, he was all too used to it, and besides, he had too much on his mind to trace the amount of cracks in the tiles went underfoot. Instead, his mind was centered on where he was headed, the room he loved and knew best, but never got to visit due to the scheduling errors and possibly an incident with clay.

 

He tried the handle. Upon finding it to be locked tapped on the glass to the art room, giving the raven behind the desk a small two-finger salute.

 

She nearly fell out of her desk, but seemed as composed as ever when she balanced on her heels, the words "Mrs. Dolorosa" around an embroidered, bead strung necklace with elegant curls dripping from every-other piece in the orchestra she had created on something physical. She was in one word, elegant, and in two words, fucking gorgeous.

 

Not in the gross 'I dream about my teacher... but as my _teacher'_ kind of deal. She contained the type of confident stride Dave could only dream of having. And her words dipped from her mouth without thought because of how comfortable she was with saying that, she never stumbled over phrases like Dave shook when he typed. The type of grace and acceptance she showed to Dave flowed right into his chest and it hurt, so yeah, she was gorgeous, and Dave wished he could see her everyday.

 

She smiled warmly to him, a slight glow appearing on her dark cheeks as she unlocked the door, stepping aside gracefully, almost as if she was floating midair, allowing him through.

 

"Ah, sorry about that, I was creating lesson plans. But, hello David.can I be of assistance?" She asked, her words molding into each other like a symphony, "Or are you going to hide from Principal English again. I remind you that I could get fired and politely ask of you to leave," Her words dripped with venom of a different level of condescension he would only hope to receive. Her eyebrow arched as he brushed past her and into the room. It possessed a faint aroma of chipping paint and must, all covered in elegant lilacs like laid near an open window. He took a deep whiff, placing worn hands on thin hips as he looked around.  All around the walls lingered the work of her students and her own work, all from thirty years of doing what she did best- inspiring her students. Being in the very room made Dave's hands fiddle around the hems of his shirt. 

 

"Nah man-" His speech was cut short by a low glare from the art teacher,  "Miss. Miss Rosa," He gulped, sliding to a nearby table, skimming his hands over the nimble variety before settling on a smooth ballpoint pen. He grinned, fumbling it between his digits as the faint clicking of Rosa's heels followed behind him. He flicked it onto the desk, twitching his eyes to a subtle shut, tilting his head, captured in his own fantasy paradise as he scraped through the files in his head for whatever his teacher would be proud of... 

 

Because he loved making her happy. He loved seeing somebody's eyes light up with pride instead of with disappointment. But that was nothing compared to the feeling that sprung heat right to his cheeks when she placed the paper in a cabinet beside her desk for safe keeping. Recently, she had been doing that every time, telling him how good he did and how much he was improving, even showing him little tips and compared it to his past art. He lived for that feeling. Something told Dave she knew it too. 

 

Rosa's golden skin blended with the mocha and jungle green hijab she adjusted to stay out of her emerald eyes, a spray of freckles against caramel lashes. Her nails clacked against her jewelry at such pristine shape that formed against her beautiful rings and tassels all held down her dress. He shuddered, looking for another emotion to convey. The only excuse for this would be he's a tool that looks for meaning in even the smallest of tiny things, but that wasn't it.

 

He just wanted to make her proud, but not the fake pride she forced upon her face when a student showed her mediocre clay pots- no- he wanted to make her proud like her mouth agape and her eyes mesmerized by the detail. All of that stress weighed inside of him but were swept like the wind when another voice spoke. 

 

"Hey, Rosa! I found that box of clay you were looking for. There's a bunch of other stuff in there including... some like? Thirty clay dicks? Why do you even hav...e... those... Sup?" His face was the same vibrant shade of chestnuts. He shifted a beige box to his hip, sending Dave a curt wave with his thin fingers, chipped and rounded at the tops from where the stranger bit the nails. 

 

Both thick eyelashes and a soft face were framed by a prominent, glowing a beauty from a ball pierced to his nose and a cut on his lip. The others shorts were pulled entirely too high up and tucked loosely into those shorts is a grey t-shirt dawned with the words "NAP QUEEN."

 

 

 

 

Dave spouted out whatever came to his mind other than how incredibly stupid and that boy looks, that was just the beginning of it. The other parts of his mind whirled about how the boy's thin arm reminded Dave of his own, only the stranger's were slightly more soft, extra muscle and skin underneath the dark skin. And then how the boy's eyes made Dave's stomach tie into knots when he remembered that John was a _person and real and most definitely looking for Dave to saying something instead of sputter._

 

"Don't hurt yourself there, kid, with arms like that you might snap your wrist like a wishbone on Thanksgiving." _Oh god, that sounded so dumb,_ "Aunt against young child that looks about as terrified as the mother," Dave croaked as the boy turned back to the woman, placing the box on an organized desk of mahogany.

 

The Dolorosa's vibrant eyes searched between him and the boy, unnerving the atmosphere tenfold. 

 

"I can manage a box, dude, there's no need to give an elaborate story about how my arms can uh..." John's laughter bubbled from his throat, "I don't know what you said, actually! Maybe about how they look like a C3po became a meth addict or something?" The boy huffed and crossed his arms, "I'm not, like, Sloth from the Boonies. Goonies, I mean, but you're not really doing my self esteem justice with that kinda stuff, man." He wasn't much taller than Dave, probably about an inch, but only because of the ridiculous locks placed haphazardly upon his head, swooping down to cover part of his glasses, poking up at points, making it clear John went to bed with wet hair. 

 

"I suspect you haven't met my lovely assistant," Her voice overcame him, breaking him from whatever comatose thought he had submerged himself in. "Johnathan-" 

 

"Just John, actually," He cut in, laughing nervously and placing nimble, thin fingers on his waist.

 

" _John._ This is David-" 

 

"Just Dave, actually," Dave mocked and allowed himself to have a little fun, after all, it made for a good first impression after his idiotic statement before. Humor always seemed to impress people. John didn't seem to think that at all.

 

"- _Dave_ and vice versa." Her arms flapped about, a tinge to her words coating over his name. Dave reached across the table, offering a hand, silently praising whatever God's made it stable enough to reminds still during a social situation of all things. Luckily, John accepted, gaping his mouth as if he was about to mention Dave's rumpled, moronic state, instead nodding hesitantly, biting a cheek with narrowed eyes. Obviously John was skeptical of Dave, if his eyes and his posture said anything about it and Dave knew this to be fact, mouth about to spew more nervous garbage before John spoke up again.

 

"Pleasure. Even though you look like you touch little girls," John spat curtly, weaving wire-thin arms over his chest and sending Rosa an unreadable look.

 

She smiled a slick grin, shrugging ever so slightly and mysteriously as John returns the gesture, slinging thumbs through the  pant loops in his too-high shorts, "I think I'm going to skedaddle... hymm.. Nice to meet you, I guess. Don't actually touch little girls okay?" Contorting his face, he snorted and shook his head giving Dave the hint on a hand written letter that John actually did not think it was a pleasure to meet him at all.

 

John leaned on his heels to grace Dave with a small salute, skipping back to to his feet and heading off happily, as if he were going onstage to gain a prize, the faint tapping of his soles down an empty corridor sending bouts of nerves into Dave's chest before they faded off, meeting the mob of teenagers. Dave blinked, following a pricking at the hairs on his nape to meet a smug grin staring back at him.

 

"This is my first time seeing your social skills in action and it seems I was deathly overestimating you."

 

"Clam it. Any day I could pull a sitcom turnaround and peel away to reveal my inner golden child to him."

 

"Is he the exception? Gosh, I didn't think he was that cute," She murmured, golden lashes forming into an exaggerated wink.

 

"About as cute as a middle aged man's mushroom-tipped love dart and then some. I give him at least a two and a half from pity." He grimaced, "And the fact you brought up is starting to concern me. Go get your daily ounce of gossip from another troubled soul, you could find at least THREE WHOLE FUCKTONS of dirt from some other greasebag," She rolled her eyes and continued nonetheless.

 

"He is also new to this school, I hope you know." She shot the most poisonous of daggers through her lidded eyes. Dave almost felt them, too.

 

"In that case, he's a three. I bet you'll have a barrel of a time trying to gain as much juicy, frothing gossip from that creep than from me."

 

"You are a charmer." Dave set the smooth, chilling pen onto his paper, growling silently as he pushed away from the desk, "I suggest you create a conversation to redeem yourself from that. Who knows when you'll have to meet him again?" She tapped her long fingernails onto her own,

 

"God, I can feel-" He began, only to be cut short by her harsh words.

 

"Do not begin, class is starting soon." Her gaze flickered obviously to the hallway, "Meaning get out of my room before I kick you out," Dave complied most willingly.

 

* * *

 

His homeroom was finally open to the public, a crowd of around twenty students all mobbing around the door as the teacher shouted outside of them, urging for a way into the mob.

 

Dave stood outside of them, hand in his pocket, back against the lockers as they watched them from afar, all of them chatting away and throwing paper wads at each other, a few dozen or so finding their way to bounce off of the teacher's golden hair. The teacher shouted away, halfway through the crowd before Dave's phone erupted in buzzes and dings and notifications.

 

Dave's conscious jumped three feet above his head, one hand fumble for his phone while the other one pushed his glasses into their place violently. He scanned the crowd, taking sidesteps against the lockers comically before escaping behind a corner. He let out a breath of air, the type that bundled inside of his chest, sudden relief flooding him as he leaned his shoulder against his locker, his bones poking uncomfortably against the locker. 

 

With the empty halls surrounding me, and the drone of his classmates seemingly miles away, he unlocked his phone to green text.

 

 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 11:56! --  
  
GG: dave   
GG: dave  
GG: dave dave  
GG: [is this you dave?????](http://oi59.tinypic.com/wloll0.jpg)   
GG: [no no this is you](http://oi57.tinypic.com/2djxopc.jpg)  
GG: ddddddaaaaavvvvvvvveeeeeee!!  
TG: thanks satan  
GG: could be worse!!!  
TG: enlighten me  
GG: i could be using tildes after everything!!!  
GG: oh my goodness hahahahaha!!!  
GG: "dave~"  
GG: "ddddddaaaaavvvvvvvveeeeeee!~!~~"  
GG: oh my god my sid e hurt s  
TG: on this episode of jade has too much time on her hands  
TG: internet memes  
TG: i actually cringed while typing that  
GG: B)  
TG: hey no offense or anything  
TG: kindly fuck off   
GG: sometimes i get caught up in how texan you are  
TG: i am getting a quality american education   
GG: heheh  
TG: something you wouldnt know about would you island girl  
GG: that hurt more than any bullet  
GG: BUT IN OTHER NEWS!!!!!   
GG: my HALF brother moved to austin!!   
TG: so ive heard   
GG: fuck yes!!!  
GG: anyway i need you to be his big bad wolf :3  
GG: because apparently people there arent the most polite??????? what a bunch of fuckboys   
TG: where can i find this innocent babu  
GG: his name is john!!!  
GG: and hes the biggest weenie hut junior to ever weenie hut junior omg  
TG: wait wait waitwaitwait   
TG: theoretically speaking  
TG: lets say i were run into this square  
TG: and not leave the best impression hahahaha  
GG: what   
TG: do me and L7 still have to become idk   
GG: dave  
TG: attached at the hip radda radda radda something i cant type right now  
TG: because im pretty sure ms green is eyeing me like shes some existential chocolate fanatic and i just stole the golden ticket to diabetes mcfuckville right from her plucky sausage fingers  
GG: dave!!!"  
TG: im at least three hundred percent and a half percent sure im not going to make it out alive today   
TG: hahaha shell probably sit on me   
TG: keep the police on hold we may got a case of butt homicide   
GG: IM GOING TO BLOCK YOU DAMMIT!!!!!!!!  
TG: what   
GG: what did you do to my brother :(   
TG: it was theoretical   
GG: :( :( :(   
TG: dont do that  
GG: :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :(   
GG: :( :( :( :( :(

 

Just then someone shook through his thoughts as a familiar voice called out,  "I don't mean to get up into your bonnet, but why are you talking to my sister?"

 

Dave dropped his phone to the sudden, prominent, nasally voice and turned around with a flinch. He was not aware the crowd was now inside the classroom, leaving him and his phone around the corner and the person behind him.

 

Dave was met with a blur of grey and tan, the words NAP QUEEN slapping him in the face as the stranger leaned down to pick him Dave's phone, handing it over with a quirked eyebrow.

 

* * *

 

  
GG: wait butt homicide  
GG: so you could say you.......  
GG: murdered that ass B)   
GG: oh what no comment?????  
GG: dave???  
GG: im just going to make more shitty drawings of you lmao

**Author's Note:**

> ???/? ??
> 
> if you like this boy are you in luck because i fucking, i fucking suck at writing dave suprisingly.  
> a lot of the stuff i did was bullcrap??  
> so if you're up for helping me out so i can continue and get to the massive massive amount of gay that would be ace.  
> if not i could PROBABLY do it on my own but darn. i do not trust myself.
> 
> next chapter's probably comes out next week?


End file.
